A Letter to my 18 Year Old Self
The Disabilities Office. I’m not fond of the name, but that’s what my university called it. I remember my first time there, meek and not sure what I needed or if I was asking too much.
However this is an open letter to my 18 year old self:
Absolutely not, it’ll take you whole six years of college to recognize that it’s OK to ask for extensions, that you’re not lazy for missing class, and that out of all the students asking for extensions (there are a lot) and and being given slack — your “excuse” is probably the most valid. Except, CF is your disease and not an excuse. But, most importantly, professors are people, too. Capable of empathy and recognizing when things are completely out of your control. They get it. You’re about to embark an adventure that’s so much more than academic knowledge. These professor will expose you to your belief system, you’ll even share a beer with them. And, don’t doubt for a second that your disease is asking too much, if you come across a professor who seems to be irrational, then they probably are.
Your 25 year old self.
What would you tell your young college self?
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